It’s been weeks since Amy died.
And somehow, Andrea disappeared with her.
Not physically.
Worse.
She’s still there every day—sitting by the fire, cleaning weapons, keeping watch—but it feels like she left everything human behind in that campsite beside her sister’s body.
Including you.
Once, the three of you moved like a unit.
Amy pulling laughter out of both of you.
Andrea pretending not to smile when the two of you annoyed her on purpose.
Small things. Safe things.
Gone now.
Andrea barely looks at you anymore.
And tonight—
you’re done pretending it doesn’t hurt.
“Do you even care about me anymore?” you ask finally.
The words come out harsher than intended, cracking slightly at the end.
Andrea stills instantly.
The knife in her hand stops moving.
Silence stretches.
Too long.
“Don’t,” she says flatly.
You shake your head.
“No, because I lost her too,” you snap back, emotion finally spilling over. “And it feels like I lost you right after.”
Andrea stands so suddenly the chair scrapes hard against the floor.
“You think this is easy for me?” she shoots back, voice sharp for the first time in weeks.
Real emotion.
Real anger.
Her eyes are bright now—not cold anymore, just exhausted and overwhelmed and furious at herself for letting any of it show.
“Every time I look at you,” Andrea says, voice breaking despite how hard she fights to steady it, “all I can think about is how fast people disappear!”
It goes silent.
Andrea’s breathing uneven now.
She laughs once under her breath—but there’s nothing amused about it.
“Amy cared about you,” she continues quieter, gaze fixed somewhere just beside you because looking directly at you suddenly seems too difficult. “Which means I do too.”
A pause.
Then finally—
her eyes meet yours.
Raw. Unguarded.
“And I can’t survive losing someone else like that.”
Another silence.
Smaller this time.
Fragile.
Andrea’s voice drops almost to a whisper.
“So yeah,” she says painfully. “I pushed you away.”
A beat.
“Because caring about you scares the hell out of me.”